Black Tie Billionaire Novels & Stories

Everything about this place screamed wealth and power, a sharp contrast to the simplicity of her life at home. Her hands trembled as she clutched her purse tightly. She’d agreed to this meeting out of duty, but she couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest. Who was Adrian Blackwood, really? And why would a man like him—a billionaire—want a stranger like her as his wife? “This way, Miss Bennett,” the butler said, his voice polite but distant.

"Unfortunately I do, I've had the displeasure for the past few weeks of wading through your filth. I have the children you sold away into captivity by the way. By the end of tomorrow the whole world is going to know what you are not to worry." He struggled against his restraints and swore a blue streak. Demented fuck. I stood back and let him tire his old ass out. Funny, up close he didn't look like either of his personas. Not the great senator, nor the axis of evil. Instead he looked like a sixty five year old degenerate down on his luck.

The plate in front of her looked like a photo from a magazine of perfect eggs, toast, and fruit carved into delicate shapes. She couldn’t eat. Her stomach twisted. "You’ll need to adjust quickly," he said, flipping the tablet closed. Then he looked at her. His gaze didn’t flinch. Cold. "Media attention has already started." Her heart skipped. "What? Already?" He slid his phone across the table. A photo. She was stepping into the building the night before, head down, hair messy. Isla Quinn: Billionaire’s Mystery Fiancée? "I thought this would be private."

She was starting to feel nervous. “Go on?” He prompted impatiently. He was dressed casually, not something you'd expect from a CEO on a Monday, but he looked hot! Killian was probably the most stunning, young billionaire alive. He was wearing a branded, black LV shirt and pants, with matching black, Nike sneakers. An expensive-looking, long black coat lay on the back of the chair he had been sitting on, completing the lovely all-black look. Plus his curly, black hair fell slightly across his face, blending in perfectly with his outfit.

"The billionaire? What's he doing here?" "Charity event in the west wing. Though after that scandal with his ex-fiancée, I'm surprised he shows his face anywhere." "I heard he's looking for a new girlfriend. Someone to clean up his image." "A fake girlfriend, you mean. Like those Hollywood contracts." My feet stopped moving. Brett Graham. Everyone knew that name. The tech mogul who'd built an empire from nothing, worth billions, cold as ice and twice as ruthless. "How much do you think someone would pay for that kind of arrangement?" the first nurse asked.

His gaze was cold, yet his charismatic aura silenced the crowd. Kimmy’s eyes widened. That man was not the fifty-five-year-old she had been told about. Kimmy’s heart pounded harder. She truly couldn’t understand. When she finally reached the altar, the man’s name rang clearly as the pastor introduced him. “Mr. Grayson Vanderbilt Blackwood.” Kimmy froze, her eyes growing wide. Grayson Vanderbilt Blackwood. The name was not unfamiliar. The richest young man in the capital, a billionaire known for his coldness, cruelty, and constant presence in business magazines and on television. Rumors even said he often changed partners.

Out of place. The door opened. The man who stepped out did not belong to her world. He wore a dark tailored coat, sharp lines, and quiet confidence. Silver cufflinks caught the weak winter sun. His posture was controlled, his expression unreadable. He moved like someone who had never been told no. Isabella recognized him instantly. Alexander Voss. The billionaire heir to Voss Enterprises. The man splashed across every headline since his father’s death three days ago. Rumors followed him like shadows, whispers of power, inheritance, and a will with unusual conditions.

I stood up and walked closer to the TV. "The Italian-American billionaire, who died over the weekend at the age of sixty-three, was famous for his charisma, his cutthroat business policies, and for being allegedly involved in illegal business—and for his personal life, which was treated as tabloid fodder." My mouth slightly parted as I saw him dressed in all black, his men were all around him, they walked into the church, and I could only see his back. The cameras were being shoved in his face but his body language screamed that he was the least bit bothered by all of it.

He'd only agreed to leave with me because I'd been so explicit about wanting sex. And then, well the stupid remark about wanting to satisfy my cravings, and then he'd gotten that phone call and I'd run away and… Oh God. "Maybe..." I tried to think of an explanation. "Maybe he's just being polite? Maybe he told your dad he'd do one more date just to be nice?" "NICE?" Taraji's head snapped up. "Kesley, the man is a billionaire CEO. He doesn't do things to be nice. He specifically requested Wednesday. He told my father he found me 'refreshingly different.'"

Liliana: “Irene, seriously, Nathan is not bad at all. If he became your boyfriend, he’d be a thousand times better than Perry.” Liliana obviously wanted me to get over my breakup, so she started putting “dangerous ideas” in my head. I weakly shook my head and sighed. She had it all wrong. Other than that one night, there was nothing between me and Nathan—and there never would be. We came from two different worlds. What kind of man was Nathan Spence? With a flick of his wrist, he could shake the entire Milshire. He owned properties and businesses all over the country. He kept a low profile, but everyone knew he was a billionaire.